The Five Kisses that Defined Rita Skeeter
by Faenea
Summary: There were five kisses that left their mark on Rita's life.  Written for "The Five Kisses Competition" challenge issued by XxXRegretXxX


Written for "The Five Kisses Competition" challenge issued by XxXRegretXxX

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with him. Much to my regret, Jo thought of him first.

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><p>The Five Kisses that Defined Rita Skeeter<p>

The first kiss of any significance in Rita Skeeter's life was soft, sweet and timidly tentative. It was an innocent exploration between two teenagers, just recognizing the attraction they held for one another. A bare brush of lips, gently pressing together as their souls opened to the other. It was the perfect first kiss. But this kiss was not hers: it belonged to two Hufflepuff boys…..and she couldn't wait to tell the world (or at least Hogwarts).

The second kiss of note in Rita's life she was not an active or willing participant in. It was not soft, sweet or anything that a first kiss should be. It was a blatant violation of self, a domination of one being over another, a crush of lips, teeth biting, and drawing blood. Tears streaked her face, glasses askew. Hands pressed against a hard chest, she struggled to defend her honor, dignity and virtue. Harsh words whispered in her ear, a warning of more to come if she didn't mind her mouth. Whimpers passed her bruised and bloody lips as she sank to the floor after the stranger left.

The third kiss in Rita's life, she was willing. It was her sixth year and the tragedy of her violent first kiss had faded from her mind. She had her eye on a beater on Ravenclaw's Quidditch team for the first two months of term and after watching him she had decided that she was the one for him. She watched all his practices, cheering him from the stands. She walked next to him from the locker rooms to the dorm after a particularly good practice. Watching her quarry from the corner of her eye, she readied her nerve. Calling out to him, she caught his attention. His head turned her way a questioning look on his face. With nerves of steel, she caught his face between her hands, rose on her tip toes to reach his mouth and pressed her lips to his. It was not soft or sweet or anything a first kiss should be, but it was a kiss she willingly laid upon another person's lips. Too bad he had a girlfriend and she was not well pleased.

Although she shared (and saw) many kisses in her life, there was one in particular that did stand out from the rest. She was twenty-two and she was getting married today. She was dressed in white, defying tradition about virgin brides, and her groom was darkly handsome in dark green dress robes. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with fairy lights braided into the curls and a veil covered her face and hair. A vision of loveliness her father proclaimed her. She stood before all wizard kind and spoke an oath to bind her to one wizard for life with a single kiss to seal the vow. This kiss was truly what she had been waiting for all her life. It held promise for a life spent together in love. It held magic, of the oath, of their love coming together to strengthen them both for as long as they should live. A press of lips, a slip of tongue, she held to her heart the love she felt from her husband and held out her love toward her husband to have and hold, in sickness and in health. This fourth kiss she would always cherish.

The fifth kiss that defined Rita was the last one she would receive. In the face of her exclusive interviews with Harry Potter and therefore with her apparent side of the war decided Voldemort was at best displeased. She may be a mere journalist, and a poor one at that, but this defiance of his rule was not to be tolerated. An invitation to the queen of gossip from the Lady Malfoy, for tea of course, was extended. Naturally she could not refuse (good manners, you see). But unfortunately for our favorite gossip hound, the being in the drawing room was not the Lady Malfoy, but a tall, pale, bald man with red eyes. With a cold look in his eyes he called to one of his allies. Frigid air trailed before the Dementor as it drifted ever closer to the beetle animagus. She however was too stunned to try to escape. Skeletal hands reached for her, drawing her up toward an empty face with a gaping mouth which delivered a Kiss that stole more than her breath. Empty eyes stared up at the ceiling at the last; unseeing of the cruel smile that settled on Lord Voldemort's face as a dissenter was silenced forever.


End file.
